


Hybristophilia

by HedonistInk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Asphyxiation, Background Hance, Background Pallura, Background Relationships, Bloodlust, Choking, Consensual Sex, Consensual Violence, Crime Scene Tech Keith (Voltron), Crime Scenes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demisexual Shiro (Voltron), Detective Shiro (Voltron), Dexter inspired AU, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gore, Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Murder, Murder Groupie Keith (Voltron), Murder Kink, No Safeword, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism, Serial Killer Kuro (Voltron), Serial Killer Shiro (Voltron), Serial Killers, Shiro Big Bang 2017, Staged Crime Scene, Torture, Violence, background Keith/Lotor dubcon, forced confessions, lots and lots of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk
Summary: Few mourn the victims of Kuro, labeled by the media as 'the Black Paladin'. Who would mourn a string of perpetrators of heinous crimes ranging from serial killers to child rapists to drug runners? Found with a hole where their hearts should be and a confession video on them detailing their crimes and the terrible things they did, the message is clear: the heartless deserve to die and Kuro isn't afraid to provide that particular brand of justice. Enter forensic investigator Keith Kogane. Sharp of tongue and wit, he prides himself on seeing through people. But what happens when one of those people is Detective Takashi Shirogane, the kind but distant lead investigator on the Black Paladin case? And what happens when Keith isn't quite as afraid of his coworker-slash-suspect as he should be? When the lines between Hunter and Prey become blurred, sometimes the ones we want to protect become the ones to drag us deeper into darkness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is, my piece for the [Shiro Big Bang](http://voltronbigbang.tumblr.com/) event! This piece is a long time coming and I'm really glad to finally be able to get it out there (and out of my WIP folder haha). 
> 
> I'd like to thank my betas [VictoriannWings](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriannWings/) & [c0cunt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/) for listening to me scream and cry about this fic for the last few months. I'd also like to thank my artists [pichikalu](http://pichikalu.tumblr.com) and [aether-staza](http://aether-staza.tumblr.com) for their beautiful contributions and for bearing with me as I tackled this fic.
> 
> I'd like to warn all readers to please _**mind the tags.**_ This is not a happy-go-lucky fic. This is graphic murder boyfriends content. People get tortured and killed on a regular basis in this fic and many non-healthy coping mechanisms and behaviours are used and depicted. There are graphic depictions of mental illness. Inb4 any 'appropriation' accusations: I'm well-researched and personally familiar with these topics. Mentally ill writer with mentally ill friends and loved ones writing mentally ill fic here. I've _thoroughly_ Done The Research.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, loved, and treasured!

 

 **Hybristophilia:** _(noun)_ A paraphilia in which a person is sexuoerotically attracted to a person who has committed an outrage or a gruesome crime. In popular culture, this phenomenon is also known as "Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome".

 

Takashi Shirogane hadn't imagined his life going like this. He genuinely hadn't. He'd enlisted at eighteen, straight out of high school. It wasn't like he had any grand plans but he just wanted to help, to do his part, and maybe make a difference along the way even if it was just in some small way. His time in the Marines had given him that, at least. Along with a high degree of combat skills, his quick reflexes and ability to think several steps ahead getting him recognition that went even beyond his squad. When he'd been discharged at twenty-four, he'd gone into law enforcement. Spending four years as a patrol officer, he finally made detective, the connections he'd made and the cases he'd helped break giving him glowing recommendations.

And then _that_ case had happened. He was thirty-one when it happened. He was thirty-one when his life changed forever. The case had made headlines _nationally,_ the case of a man who had abducted and brutally murdered a series of kindergarten children only to preserve their corpses to display in his own sick twisted little 'classroom' beneath his house. His killing 'career' had lasted for _years,_ some of the children having gone missing nearly five years before they finally uncovered his twisted secret.

All of the evidence had pointed to him being guilty. There was more than enough evidence packed into that file to have him locked up for twenty lifetimes, let alone one.

Except for the fact that one of the officers who had been on the scene got himself busted for _cocaine_ during the trial.

The man's lawyer hadn't wasted any time in jumping on that one. He'd called this piece and that piece and anything the cop had been in the same _reality_ with into question, insisting that it had been planted, that the perpetrator had met the cop's dealer once and they had a long-running mutual hatred that had led to this cop being told to plant evidence in exchange for feeding his addiction.

And the idiots on the jury had believed it.

Or at least, enough of them had believed it that the case had to be dropped because of a hung jury. And with so much of the evidence deemed 'tainted' and subject to doubt and hazy circumstances, there was no way the DA was ever going to attempt to retry the case. Not until they found new evidence, new evidence that would only come with allowing this man to do it _again._

The look on that man's face the day he'd left the courtroom and walked right past Shiro had been nothing sort of _smug._ That smug sort of look on his face just screamed guilt and spoke volumes of how _pleased_ he was to have 'gotten away with it’ in the eyes of the law.

Shiro knew he would do it again. There was no question in his mind that this man would do these terrible things again. He had to be stopped. Someone had to stop him. _The Law_ was supposed to stop him but it had failed and they had failed and now innocent children were at risk of being killed and they were just letting him walk out of there so he could go off and _kill more kids_.

Someone had to stop him.

That was the night 'Kuro' was born.

His first kill, the man who posed his victims in their twisted little postmortem 'classroom', was meticulous—just like all his later kills would be.

He'd rented a warehouse space—cash only, of course—outside the edge of town. Isolated by farms and fields, the random industrial complex from some failed development concept was an ideal space to be sure no one could hear the screaming in the dead of night. He had made sure the space was as sterile as he could, and he'd kept it that way ever since. Kuro was a creature of habit, of routine, of meticulous perfection. And that was what kept him safe, that was what kept him _and_ Shiro safe. Every kill was near-identical, Kuro never letting himself fall victim to the urge to escalate. What he did got the job done just fine.

Every 'victim'—in as much as someone like that could be a _victim_ of anything except their own sick mind—of Kuro was found the same way. They were tortured, obviously, decorated with a series of slashes and stabs all done with a medical grade scalpel—disposable and gotten rid of carefully when Shiro was at work with the ME's medical waste, sent off to some incinerator somewhere. The heart was removed, never to be found—fed to the pigs at a farm across town from the warehouse where he did his 'work'—and in its place was an SD card. On that SD card—generic, bought in bulk, and impossible to trace—was a video, one single file on which Kuro made them list their crimes, a confession tape of sorts.

Each video started the same, with his victim tied to a chair, coming to from being knocked out. Kuro just sat there across from them, hunched in his chair, staring, waiting, twiddling a scalpel in his hands but careful to never let it cut him.

"You're going to confess. You're going to them what you did, to tell them why it was wrong. Apologise. Atone for your crimes. Let these families rest."

Every time they told him to fuck off, they earned a cut, shallow, wide, painful.

"Tell them. Tell them what happened."

Three strikes and slices turned to stabs. Three more strikes and bones started to snap.

He'd never had to get past the first bone.

Kuro made sure to research these perpetrators as much as he could, made sure to know all the things they needed to confess to, he made sure they didn't leave anything out. And even still, sometimes he was surprised by how _heinous_ these people could be while still considering themselves 'human'. These people weren't 'human', they were _monsters._ And everyone knows it takes a monster to destroy another monster.

As a final act, a K was carved into his victim's forehead so that everyone would _know_ someone was watching, so that everyone would _know_ that justice was coming for them. Then, he posed them somewhere in the slums of town, careful to avoid every camera and to plan his route down to the timing of the stop lights. Every pose was identical, meticulous, methodical, just like everything else Kuro did. He wasn't just good at what he did, he was _perfect._

The media had started to call him The Black Paladin after the first few months when the killings started to be publicised as linked. They never seemed entirely sure if they should condemn him because the tapes—which conveniently managed to get leaked to the public almost every time, although Shiro wasn't actually sure by _whom_ —clearly showed these people were _monsters_ and the world was better off without them wandering the streets, drug dealers, pimps, child traffickers, serial rapists. But they were also never quite able to praise this mysterious stranger with the vicious nature of his kills. The message, though, was clear: Someone was watching, and the heartless would find retribution and justice, the Black Paladin would see to it. Kuro thought the whole 'Black Paladin' thing was a bit… dramatic, really. It made him seem like some hero for justice. But Kuro knew who he was, he was just _Kuro,_ a monster that existed to dispose of other monsters, nothing more and nothing less. These people didn't deserve to live, they didn't deserve to be allowed to roam free to hurt other people. And it was his job to see that they didn't.

For the most part, Shiro kept to himself. He wasn't particularly social outside of his work. Sure, on rare occasion, he might go and have a drink with his coworkers. But it was only ever _one_ drink, and he always made sure he didn't linger too long. He couldn't afford to be in a compromised state. Kuro wouldn't let him. They had secrets to keep.

But it was enough to give him a working knowledge of who his coworkers were. Pidge he was fairly fond of. The younger sister of the night shift lab supervisor, Matt, Pidge was… meticulous. If there was a new technique for analyzing DNA, she knew about it. She'd gotten them a conviction on a case only a few weeks before by analyzing the specific mutations in the DNA of the _plant_ stuck to the perpetrator's shoe. He didn't think anyone else on the planet could look so menacing putting on a pair of rubber gloves, much less someone who was barely five feet tall.

Then there was Allura, a fellow detective and Pidge's girlfriend. They'd just celebrated their one year anniversary and she could always be seen floating around the lab even when she didn't need to be. She was nice, if a bit strange at times. Her parents had moved to the states from South Africa when she was only a child but her grasp on colloquialisms was still sometimes a bit… lacking. And she never seemed to have a handle on her partner, Lance.

Lance was… energetic. Still new to his detective's uniform by barely a few weeks, Lance seemed to make friends instantly with anyone who even happened to glance in his direction. The word eager almost seemed to have been invented to describe Lance himself. He was bubbly and friendly and definitely a flirt—even if it was obviously empty flirting given how head-over-heels he was for the man who worked trace evidence, a kind but introverted man by the name of Hunk.

Hunk liked his job well enough. But more than anything, he liked to cook. He was constantly leaving cakes and cookies and various treats in the break room. And he seemed almost as smitten with Lance as Lance was with him. If only either of them could actually _realize_ that. It was sweet, in a way, watching them dance around each other, both entirely in denial that the feeling was mutual.

And then… And then there was Keith Kogane. Keith Kogane was the man who might become Shiro's downfall. Twenty three years old, he'd been a crime scene tech for three years now. He'd started out in the field before an incident involving a scene that hadn't been cleared properly had wound up with him in the hospital for a few weeks and benched to being in the lab. It had taken until the last few weeks for him to actually go back to being in the field and collecting from scenes. And he'd never seemed more dedicated to his job. It was… almost intimidating, really, how intense he could be while at a scene.

Shiro really had to admire his dedication, the way his eyes glinted when he was focused on being sure to collect _every_ bit of evidence. If anyone could find something that everyone else had overlooked, it was Keith. There was something in his eyes, something Shiro only recognized because he saw it in himself… It was the ability to make connections that no one else did and a genuine… dedication to feigning normalcy. It was in the eyes, it was something in the eyes that flickered through when so much of your time was dedicated to living a lie and hiding a large part of who you were and where your viewpoint came from, what your story was. And Keith was hiding that. He was almost as bad as Shiro when it came to having strict rules regarding 'socializing' and often even left at the same time as he did.

And, unfortunately for Shiro, Keith had been assigned to the most recent Black Paladin scene.

And, unfortunately for Shiro, it was the one time where Kuro had made a mistake.

"What about that hair Kogane collected?" an older detective asked. He was an eccentric man by the name of Coran. "The white one that was found at the scene?"

 _What._ Oh… Oh no, the hair. The hair had to be his. Shiro had to actively school himself to curb the urge to reach up and touch the white forelock of hair that brushed down onto his forehead. He remembered a snag as he'd had to shoulder his way through the fence but he'd checked over his clothing for any rips or tears or any indication anything had gotten caught. But he must have lost a hair and Keith had collected it and—

"Dog," Keith answered, piping up and cutting over Pidge's half-formed reply as she rummaged through her files.

 _What?_ Shiro's thoughts cut off mid-way through trying to puzzle out how to get the fuck out of the room before they took him into custody, running through exit plan scenarios in his mind.

"…What?" Coran asked, frowning. "Well I just don't see how that could be considering the length of—"

"It was a dog hair," Keith answered, as solid and flat in his tone as the first time he'd said the word. "Pidge saw it, right Pidge?"

Pidge stopped and stared at Keith for a moment before nodding firmly, some unspoken communication passed between them. "Right, yeah, dog hair."

Keith nodded. "The vic's neighbour has a dog. Weird fluffy, shaggy cream and white thing. So it was probably just transfer. Nothing to get hung up about."

Lance took the opportunity to cut in with his latest absurd theory, "We're wasting time on that when we should be focused on—"

Lance's words trailed off in Shiro's mind as he stared at Keith, trying to puzzle his way through what the _fuck_ had just happened. There's no way that was a dog hair. That was… it was definitely his. Why the fuck was Keith covering that up? It had to be some kind of miracle, that Keith or Pidge or someone had just fucked up that badly and was misinterpreting the evidence or— Or Keith might know. Keith might know and… be covering for him for some reason? Blackmail? Was he trying to get something out of this? Would Shiro get a request in a few days for some absurd sum of money delivered to him in an unmarked envelope with the bank account and routing number for some bank in the Cayman Islands?

Looking up from the papers in front of him, Keith caught Shiro's gaze as the older man stared at him. Keith held it for a moment, expression neutral but knowing. It was… odd, almost like looking at a cat rather than a man, the way Keith seemed to stare into his very soul. But then Keith nodded, a small minute gesture, before going back to flipping through the papers in front of him. He knew. He had to have known.

Especially after how Keith had been sniffing around Shiro's life lately. Shiro hadn't made the connection, hadn't thought anything too much of it. But the offhand comment Keith had made about how it was ironic they always seemed to catch Black Paladin cases on Friday mornings when Shiro usually had Thursdays off floated back into Shiro's mind. Did he know then? Did he know now?

Why the fuck would Keith be covering for him?

No, no, there was no way that he knew. Keith was one of 'the good guys', he wouldn't be covering for Shiro if he knew his coworker was a serial murderer.

That was when Shiro began to become interested in the puzzle that was Keith Kogane.

That was when Shiro started to notice that there was something _wrong_ in the life of Keith Kogane.

It was just his wrists, at first, small, dark bruises. As if from handcuffs. Keith tried to hide them, that much was obvious, tugging his sleeves down whenever anyone was near enough to see. It was… weird, but… if Keith wanted to engage in some sort of weird kinky sex, that was his business. Handcuffs were a feature in plenty of people's bedrooms, after all.

But then the bruises had finger impressions, like from someone gripping him too tightly at the wrist. And then there were bruises dancing across his neck or pressed high on his cheek, barely noticeable where the cover-up he'd obviously painstakingly applied started to smear off toward the end of a shift.

It was when Keith's wrist wound up fractured that Shiro really knew something was wrong.

That was when Kuro started to notice as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover art featured in this chapter by pichikalu! [Like/Reblog Here!](http://pichikalu.tumblr.com/post/167390997187/heres-my-cover-art-for-the-fic-hybristophilia-by)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Shiro gets to the truth behind Keith's injuries, he must face the choice between potential exposure and an unfamiliar yet deep-seated urge to protect.

Despite being on medical leave, Keith still came into work every day, skulking around Pidge's table. His vague answer seemed to be the single most half-assed attempt at an excuse that Shiro had ever heard. "I just don't wanna sit around at home" was a reason why people went to coffee shops or to bad cover band concerts in the park on a Saturday afternoon. It wasn't a reason to come in to work and backseat-analyze. 

Not unless what it really was was an excuse to  _ avoid  _ being at home for more…  _ pressing _ reasons than boredom. Maybe paired with a subconscious desire to want to be someplace one associates with safety. And where was safer than work when work was an excuse to hang out in a police station? 

Still, it was suspicious. And Shiro wanted to get to the root of it. He wanted to make sure Keith was okay. Of course the only natural conclusion was for Shiro to follow him home, tailing him back to a disproportionately posh apartment in a bad neighbourhood. 

What he saw was… disturbing to say the least. Crouched on the fire escape, Shiro watched as Keith was hoisted up by the front of his shirt, listening to the muffled yelling and shouting from the man who was screaming at him. Shiro watched as Keith was all but discarded to his knees on the floor only to have his head yanked back for the man to yell at him some more, slapping across his tear-streaked face. 

It was when the man's hands went to his belt that Shiro left, unable to bear watching and doing nothing. 

The worst part was, Shiro recognized him. He was the 'untouchable' son of one of the mob bosses in the city, always  _ just _ far enough removed from a crime to render him beyond persecution. 

_ Lotor. _

It wasn't right. He wanted to stop this man. He wanted  _ Kuro _ to stop this man. It was a terrifying thought. Shiro never wanted to  _ encourage _ Kuro but… he wanted to  _ protect  _ Keith. Even though he had no reason to want that. Even if it was foolish to even consider it when he  _ knew _ Keith might have been on to him, Shiro vowed to find out as much as he could on this man, to see if it was a case Kuro could take on. 

The next couple of weeks saw Shiro following Keith home from work a few more times, each time watching him dealing with the same  _ bullshit, _ each time watching him not putting up a fight. It soon became Kuro doing the 'recon', following Lotor when he left the apartment, taking note of his dealings and his crimes, researching him when he went home. Yes… Lotor would do nicely. Lotor was by far repugnant enough to qualify for Kuro's brand of justice. 

From what Kuro could find out, Keith had gotten involved with Lotor when he was in school. He'd taken a 'loan' from a loan shark to pay his tuition that had been up-sold to Lotor when the man had expressed an interest in Keith. That was when the 'terms' of the loan had changed. Lotor had offered to  _ forgive _ Keith's loan in exchange for  _ dating _ Keith. But the one time Keith had tried to walk away, he'd been greeted by two of Lotor's underlings and a warning to either come 'home' or start paying up again. From then on, Lotor had all but owned him outright. 

Shiro hated watching Keith get hurt. And he hated that every time Keith would pull a bullshit excuse out of his ass. He fell, he walked into a doorframe, he fell out of bed and landed weird. Who was he fooling? Well… everyone except Shiro, apparently. Every time he saw it happen for himself, every minor or major infraction or violation of Keith's space made Shiro seethe. It forced him to retreat behind Kuro in order to not simply burst through the window and throttle Lotor on the spot. And that was a terrifying enough thought on its own. Shiro had  _ never _ been tempted to execute those sorts of acts as  _ himself. _ No, that was Kuro's space, the killing, the sadism, the glee at watching the light fade in someone's eyes. 

But maybe, just maybe, Shiro wanted to be present when Lotor met his end, wanted to watch the light disappear in his eyes. 

Still… Shiro had to play by Kuro's rules. He had a  _ method, _ a routine, a specific way he worked and carried out his very specific sort of justice. And no matter how much Shiro wanted to smash the window in and strangle Lotor with his bare hands… He had to be patient. He had to play Kuro's game. Lotor's time would come. 

Finding enough evidence on Lotor to satisfy Kuro was… a process. The guy seemed to only be  _ vaguely _ connected to any of a dozen different terrible things on any given Tuesday. But eventually,  _ finally _ , he had enough. Kuro had enough to justify Lotor being taken out. 

And that was just what he did. 

Lotor's tape almost made Shiro sick to watch when it was loaded up and played after being retrieved from the crime scene. The things that man admitted to… But watching the outraged and superior attitude crumbled into pleading and begging… It was oddly satisfying seeing him cry the way he'd made Keith cry. 

Keith wouldn't look him in the eyes that day, neither at the crime scene nor afterward when the video was played. Shiro couldn't decide if it was some bizarre misplaced grief, embarrassment at knowing that Shiro knew what he'd been through. Or… if Keith  _ knew. _ Shiro wasn't sure, couldn't be sure. But whatever the case, Keith wasn't telling anyone if he  _ did _ suspect Shiro. 

After that, things more or less went back to normal. At least for the next few weeks. They were uneventful. Shiro did his work, Keith did his work, and  _ Kuro _ did his work as well. A perfectly oiled machine. For a time. 

***

_ Again, damnit.  _ Again, Kuro had fucked up. Another careless mistake. He knew as soon as he saw Keith dusting for prints. Kuro's glove had ripped and he'd left a print and— 

Shiro had to get Keith to destroy it. He had to make sure Keith destroyed that print. He had to get rid of it. That would be the end of him if they ran that print. 

No, Shiro didn't need to,  _ Kuro _ needed to get Keith to destroy that print. 

Kuro showed up to Keith's apartment that night. Mask firmly in place, he slipped in through the open window, his blade at Keith's throat in barely a moment, one of Keith's arms twisted behind his back. 

"Just listen to what I say and comply and no one has to get hurt…" Kuro urged, voice deliberately low. 

Shiro silently begged Keith to do as he said. He didn't  _ want _ to hurt Keith, not after everything he'd gone through to  _ protect _ him… He was nice and strange and Shiro  _ liked _ him… But he couldn't continue to be a threat. 

"You were at a crime scene today… You lifted a print from a man's glasses…" Kuro explained. "That is… inconvenient for me. What I need— what you and I  _ both _ need you to do here is—" 

"I know it's you, Shiro," Keith interrupted him, voice calm and bored. 

Actually… he even sounded tired? Annoyed? How the  _ fuck _ was Keith  _ annoyed _ at him? He had a  _ knife _ to his throat!? What was—  _ how _ ? Kuro tensed, gripping the knife tighter against Keith's throat. 

Keith snorted. "Relax, Shiro. I'm not going to say anything. I already trashed the print. It's not useable. They won't get anything out of it, I made sure of that." 

"I—" Kuro frowned. "Why would you do that?" 

"Because," Keith shrugged minutely. "I think it's… I think you're doing the right thing. These people… They're not the kind of people who should be on the street and nobody  _ else _ is doing anything about it. Can you ease up on the knife a smidge, it's gonna nick." 

Flabbergasted, Kuro's grip on the knife relaxed slightly, as did the pressure of the blade against Keith's throat. 

"Thanks," Keith commented blandly. "…But you're getting careless. I can't keep covering for you. You got that? So get your ass in gear, Shirogane. You know better than this. I've seen your work. Just… do what you're good at. Don't get careless. Don't deviate. I can only do so much to cover up your mistakes." 

"…You're okay with this?" Shiro asked, conflicted, Kuro's front wavering. 

"These people don't deserve to be free," Keith answered honestly and without hesitation. "Someone has to get them off the street and if the law won't… Now get out of here, I'm fucking  _ tired. _ You're welcome to use the door this time if you want but the window works too, I don't give a shit." 

Stepping back, Kuro waited for Keith to turn around, to come at him. But there was… Nothing. He only stretched out his arm and wrist, waiting patiently until his 'intruder' left, slipping back out the window the way he'd came. 

Keith knew. 

Keith knew  _ and _ he was protecting him anyway. 

Keith  _ agreed _ with what Kuro was doing. 

What the fuck. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuro has a carefully crafted routine. But what happens when Shiro is pushed too far?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings for this chapter: Eye Trauma.

Kuro watched as his latest victim groggily came to, twiddling his scalpel as he waited for the man in the chair to wake up. Jonathan Haxus. He was a real piece of work. The man was responsible for the gruesome deaths of no less than six people, six  _ children, _ all under the age of ten. The things he'd done to them had made Shiro sick on more than one occasion, the research almost too much to handle. 

"You're that guy… The Black Paladin, right? Oh, I guess I should be honoured that I've wound up on your radar," Haxus huffed out a dry laugh, no hint of the usual fear Kuro expected of his victims in the man's tone. "Guess this is it for me, isn't it. …You know you tie these knots  _ very _ tight."

"You're going to confess." Kuro gestures to the camera. "You're going to  _ them  _ what you did, to tell them why it was wrong. Apologise. Atone for your crimes. Let these families rest, let them find peace."

"You think I'm scared of you?" the man tied to the chair asked, looking up at Kuro with no more concern or interest than if he were looking at a newspaper advertisement. 

Kuro moved to slash at the man's thigh. Strike one. "Tell them. Tell them what happened." 

Haxus barely flinched, instead looking down at the wound on his leg. "Ooh… I'd be concerned about that scarring but I know you're not going to let me out of here anyway…" His tone was almost bored. 

Something in Kuro's gut churned as Shiro squirmed in the back of his mind. What the  _ fuck? _

Seeming to sense this, the man smirked slightly, the expression barely twitching up at the corners of his lips. But it was enough for Kuro to notice, to be set on-edge. 

" _ Confess, _ " Kuro repeated with another slash to the man's leg.

"Oh, that one stung a bit. You see… you and I are at an impasse… You're not going to get anywhere with this because… I'm not scared of you," Haxus declared in a bored drawl. "You're not  _ scary. _ I've  _ seen  _ what you do. Your victims don't  _ suffer. _ " He huffed, almost sounding amused. "Well… not like  _ mine _ did, anyway."

Gritting his teeth, Kuro checked the angle of the camera, checking his mask. "Confess your crimes for the camera. Names are preferred. Dates can be approximated." 

"…Did I tell you what I did to little Annie?" Haxus asked abruptly. "She was so sweet… Those pretty blue eyes… Seeing the fear in them… Watching the light slowly go out in them… Hearing her take her last… desperate… breath." 

With a disgusted growl, Shiro stabbed the scalpel into Haxus' leg. "Names. And dates. This isn't the time for you to be  _ bragging. _ " 

" _ Fuck. _ That actually hurt. You know, you're doing me a  _ favour _ , really…" Haxus mused, tensing his leg and watching as the blade moved. "I knew I'd be headed for the chair when they caught me anyway. But at least now I know I'll make the headline thanks to you." 

Taking a steady breath, Kuro tried to calm his body, regaining his control. "Confess your crimes with names and dates." 

"We aren't any different, you know," Haxus noted. 

_ What. _ Shiro tensed. 

Kuro shook his head, snapping the man's wrist easily. "I'm nothing like you." 

" _ Shit! _ " Haxus cursed, flinching. "Oh no, we  _ are, _ you see. You do what you do because of some inflated sense of self-importance, some bizarre self-righteousness, some twisted sense of  _ justice… _ And I do it because I  _ want _ to. But we're exactly the same. We both take lives." 

What the fuck was this man. What the fuck. How could he say they were anything alike? They were nothing alike. Shiro could feel himself coiling in a panic. 

_ Snap. _ Kuro went for a knee this time. "Names and dates. Confess your crimes. Apologize the families if your victims." 

"We're both monsters… We're both  _ demons… _ Unlovable and undeserving of love. That's why we have to  _ take _ it instead…" 

Kuro scoffed, trying to keep control over himself. "Shut up. I'm just taking out society's trash and sparing the broken justice system the time and effort. I'm nothing like you." 

But what if Shiro was? Some part of him… some part of him  _ liked _ hearing these bastards scream,  _ knowing _ they deserved it, he always felt justified and invigorated after a kill. Maybe he  _ was _ a monster. Maybe… maybe he deserved to be the one in the chair instead. 

Kuro pulled the blade from the man's thigh, stabbing it into his gut instead and twisting the blade. "You are the scourge of society. I am justice. Now  _ confess. _ Let the families of your victims  _ rest _ and we can end this  _ peacefully. _ You don't have to suffer anymore." 

That one earned a scream, choked heaving following behind. " _ Shit! _ You fucking crazy motherfucker. You think you're not like me? You're  _ just _ like me. Look at you, you  _ enjoy _ this. You enjoy watching your victims suffer. You  _ enjoy _ putting an end to the 'trash', don't you? So you have a different  _ type. _ Some people like blondes. I prefer redheads. You just happen to prefer  _ criminals. _ But really… You're just the same as I am." Haxus chuckled, grunting in pain with heavier breaths.

Something snapped. 

"You sick fuck, you fucking  _ twisted freak, _ I'm  _ nothing _ like you!" Shiro launched himself at Haxus with a snarl, caging his head in his hands as his thumbs went to the man's eyes, pushing in until there was a  _ pop _ and a gooey wetness against his gloves. He grabbed for the knife, then, stabbing anything,  _ anywhere _ that he could reach. Over and over, he felt the knife plunging through the resistance of the man's flesh, more times than he could even begin to bother to count. He could feel the blood on his clothing, on his skin, splattering and gushing from wound after wound. 

The screams barely penetrated Shiro's thoughts as he broke and stabbed, wanting to destroy every fibre of this man's existence. If he could obliterate him off the surface of the earth, it  _ still _ wouldn't be enough. He didn't just want this man to die, he wanted this man to stop  _ existing _ . He wanted him  _ gone _ from reality, gone from  _ everything. _

And then… there were no more screams. And for the first time since Haxus had woken up in that chair, he was quiet. 

Shiro stepped back, looking at his hands, covered in blood, looking at Haxus, broken to a near-unrecognizable state. 

"O-oh god…  _ what have I done… _ " Shiro breathed, a quiet whisper of pure horror. He glanced to the camera, the little red light telling of his sins and transgressions. 

Kuro needed to handle this. Kuro needed to smooth this over, to make this  _ normal. _

For once, Kuro was quiet. 

Instead, Shiro held up the images of Haxus' confirmed victims one by one, giving their names and ages. "These are the children whose lives were cut short by this man. There may be more but I… I do not know. I'm sorry." 

Shiro ended the video, carefully cleaning up the scene of any evidence of himself before taking care to go through all of Kuro's steps. The heart. The SD card. The posing and positioning at the scene Kuro had selected. 

Maybe Haxus was right, Shiro thought, looking down at the body. Maybe he  _ was _ the same sort of monster, maybe  _ who _ his victims were  _ didn't _ make a difference. 

Shiro turned on his heel and started to walk. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wasn't entirely sure where he was going until he got there. All he knew was that he'd wound up at Keith's apartment. 
> 
> Keith. 
> 
> Keith was safe. 
> 
> Keith was the only one he could trust, the only one alive who knew exactly the breed of monster Shiro was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not posting yesterday! But here's this! 
> 
> (Awwwwh yeah, we finally get to the other reason this fic is rated E aside from the violence... The smut.)

Shiro wasn't entirely sure where he was going until he got there. All he knew was that he'd wound up at Keith's apartment.

Keith.

Keith was safe.

Keith was the only one he could trust, the only one alive who knew _exactly_ the breed of monster Shiro was.

Belatedly, he realized it was probably a bad decision, showing up at Keith's door at 3am with blood still spattered across his skin. But his knuckles were already descending from knocking at the door, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway.

A distant thump, clatter, and colourful curse later, Shiro swiped a hand through his hair only to come back with a hand wet, sticky, and tinted red.

Great. It was in his hair too.

But there wasn't time for Shiro to dwell on that when the door was suddenly opened to reveal Keith standing there looking half asleep. The younger man was clad in nothing but a pair of tight boxer briefs and an oversized shirt draping off one side, collarbone and the curve of his shoulder clearly on display.

Keith blinked at Shiro sleepily, staring at him for a moment as though he needed to process what he was seeing. Shiro could see the panic bloom across Keith's face and for a moment fear struck him that Keith was just going to _scream_ but then he was being yanked _into_ the apartment instead.

Spinning around as he was yanked in, Shiro watched Keith stick his head out into the hallway to look left and right before slamming and deadbolting the door. Half slumping against the back of the door with a relieved sigh, Keith took a moment to look Shiro over, his expression morphing back into something amounting to 'not awake enough for this'. "You're bloody."

Shiro looked down at himself, seeing the blood splattered on his clothes. He could feel it on his face as well. He huffed out a laugh, the sound slightly derisive. "A little bit."

"I'm guessing it's not yours," Keith replied blandly.

"You'd be guessing correctly."

"…Shower?"

Shiro paused. Keith was just… letting him wash the evidence away? He'd hoped Keith would help him but… Keith wasn't even asking any questions about what had happened? Nodding quietly, Shiro offered a small smile. "…Please."

Yawning, Keith nodded as his jaw closed, moving to grab for Shiro's hand without a thought and drag him down the hallway. He dragged him into the bathroom, fumbling around in a cabinet for a towel. "Lemme grab some pants too. Your clothes are all bloody."

Keith slipped out of the room to grab sweatpants, leaving Shiro alone to stare at his bloody reflection. He looked like a mess. He looked… like something out of a nightmare, covered in blood splatter with fear sparkling in his eyes. Returning to push the fabric into Shiro's hands, Keith paused, gaze scanning Shiro's face. "Hey…"

Shiro wasn't sure what he was looking for, wasn't sure what he could offer him, but he felt _vulnerable_ there under his stare.

Whatever Keith saw seemed to satisfy him as his expression softened. He reached up and cupped at Shiro's cheek for a moment. "I'm gonna make us some coffee," Keith said, his words quieter than Shiro could ever remember hearing them, holding a gentleness to them that seemed… out of place for the prickly crime scene tech he knew.

With that, Keith was gone again, slipping past Shiro and out of the bathroom, the sounds of bare footsteps padding across the floor disappearing towards the kitchen.

Shiro could still feel the ghost of Keith's touch burning into his cheek, grounding him, making him feel _real_ in his body again, making him feel like _Shiro_ again, like he could dare to put _Kuro_ away for a while again.

Twenty minutes later, the hot water ran out and Shiro stepped out of the shower, skin scrubbed red and raw, but feeling that much more like himself. Carefully padding out back into the kitchen, Shiro found Keith sitting cross-legged on the counter, a mug of coffee clutched in his lap. He looked groggy, still, but more awake than he had before Shiro had gotten into the shower.

Looking over at him, Keith tilted his head to the side curiously. He picked up his mug, taking a sip before setting it back in his lap as he asked, "…Rough night?"

Rough… night? He'd just shown up at Keith's apartment covered in blood at three in the morning. Yeah, rough night was slightly an understatement. How was Keith so _casual_ about this!?

After a moment of silence, Keith pointed to the coffee maker and then to a cabinet. "Coffee. Mugs. Talk."

Oh… so Keith _was_ going to make him explain what had happened… This was where Keith was going to get freaked out and call the cops on him. Shiro was sure of it. He could feel the sting of nervous bile itching at the base of his throat. He hesitated, hovering awkwardly in the middle of Keith's kitchen in borrowed pants instead.

Keith was silent, looking at Shiro with his head tilted to the side as Shiro weighed his options. He blinked slowly, watching Shiro's dilemma and looking… remarkably like a particularly sleepy cat.

After another minute, Keith set his mug down onto the counter beside him, unfolding his legs slowly before slipping off the counter. Shiro had never been more aware of how long Keith's legs actually were than in that moment of watching them unfold from underneath him to dangle off the counter before he dropped onto the floor with a soft thump.

Keith stepped forward, moving to pick up Shiro's hands gently. "Unless… what you need _isn't_ to talk…" He settled Shiro's hands onto his waist, stepping closer to slot their bodies together lightly. Keith's eyes were bright and curious as he looked at Shiro, head tilted slightly to the side and expression drawn down into the slightest open-mouth pout.

Shiro wanted to kiss him more than anything. But… how was Keith _coming onto him_ when Shiro had been covered in blood only minutes before? Maybe… maybe Keith was just too tired to really register it? Either way, he couldn't just… not question it. Shiro pressed a hand to Keith's cheek. "I… I just showed up at your apartment… In the middle of the night… covered in someone else's blood. That… That doesn't worry you?"

Blinking, Keith stifled a yawn, shifting closer until Shiro could feel the warmth of his body through their clothes. "Mnh… why should it? I know it was some sick puppy. This is you. The guy had it coming. I know that much. …Besides, m'off the clock."

Shiro almost couldn't process what Keith had said for a long moment. But when he did, it was with a disbelieving laugh, wrapping his arms tighter around Keith in an embrace. "What _are_ you…" he marveled.

"Sleepy," Keith answered without hesitation. Keith nuzzled at Shiro's chest for a second before looking up at him and ducking up to kiss Shiro's jaw. "And you're warm. So hurry up and pick coffee or bed. My toes are getting cold on this floor."

"…Bed… If… you don't mind me stay—" Shiro found himself being dragged towards a door before he could even finish his sentence.

Before he knew it, Shiro was being dragged into Keith's room and into Keith's bed, ushered under the sheets. Keith's hands were on him almost immediately, wrapping around him as Keith all but made himself one with the larger man. But he… didn't push for anything more than that, seemingly content with flattening his hands against the back of Shiro's shoulder blades.

A kiss pressed to Shiro's jaw had Shiro snapping out of his thoughts for a moment to stare at Keith wide-eyed, blinking down at him in confused surprise.

"If you want me to stop…" Keith began, moving to step back.

"N-no… No it's… It's okay…" Shiro answered, surprised at himself as he found his hands moving to wrap around Keith's waist. Keith felt so _small_ in his arms, so easy to break. So why did it seem like he was somehow stronger than Shiro? "I— weren't you tired?"

Smiling slightly, Keith leaned up again, this time pressing a kiss directly to Shiro's lips, firm but not pushing for more.

Shiro let out a small sound of surprise, squeezing at Keith's waist for a moment before Keith pulled back. Scanning over his face again, Keith leaned in for another kiss, barely brushing his lips against Shiro's with his movements.

Shiro felt as though he couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He hadn't touched anyone or let anyone touch him in so long. Why would he? Why would anyone want to touch a monster like him? He didn't _deserve_ to have anyone touch him. Even if it was for the right reasons, he was still a person who did terrible things.

But then there was Keith, Keith and the genuine lack of fear or hatred or _anything_ negative in Keith's eyes. He'd never looked at Shiro with fear. He'd never looked at Shiro with anything other than honest acceptance and that glowing warmth of _want_ in his cold eyes.

And now he was in Keith's bed. He was in Keith's bed and he smelled like Keith's shampoo and Keith was smiling at him—just slightly—as he pulled back from pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips.

"You're… really okay with this…?" Shiro asked cautiously, almost afraid to break the moment. "You know… You _do_ know I kill people." Shiro wasn't sure he'd ever admitted it so frankly.

Keith shrugged, running his hands up across Shiro's chest and drawing out a groan despite Shiro's best efforts. "Well… yeah? I think we've established this. You showed up at my place covered in blood. But… the people you go after… they're shitty anyway? And… I'm not exactly a _great_ person but… I'm not a _bad_ person, either? So… not really my problem." There was a pause as Keith seemed to debate something. "Besides… I'm… you actually impress me. You're so… meticulous and your kills are usually so clean and… you're clearly very strong and… well… even if you broke me, there are worse ways to go."

Shiro stared at Keith for a moment, letting his words process before he brought his hands up to cup at Keith's face, kissing him carefully and gently. Keith melted into the kiss almost immediately and Shiro couldn't help but groan at the feel of teeth nipping lightly at his bottom lip between kisses, suckling the sensitive flesh in between his teeth.

"I don't _want_ to break you…" Shiro breathed, the admittance barely a whisper and earning a small chuckle from Keith in return.

Shiro could hardly believe this was happening, could hardly believe _Keith_ could exist. And the fact that he wasn't scared of him? It was… it wasn't something Shiro had ever dared to imagine, the idea that he could be entirely himself with a partner ever again, not afraid to hide what he did when he went out at night, not afraid to miss a spot of blood in his cleanups before he got home, before anyone he cared about could see him.

Shiro's kisses trailed lower, down to Keith's neck. His hands found their way up under his shirt, across smooth skin and lightly defined curves of muscle. Keith didn't hesitate to pull the shirt off, giving Shiro a solid view of his chest and stomach as Keith settled back down again, tugging Shiro more on top of him as he ground his now obvious erection against Shiro's hip.

"Sh-shit…" Shiro laughed, looking down between them to see the way Keith's underwear tented out. "You're…"

"Into you? No shit," Keith smirked, moving to grab Shiro's ass and grind against him more firmly, a breathy moan escaping past his lips. "F-feels like you're pretty into me too."

Shiro huffed out an embarrassed sound but nodded. "Yeah… Very into you…" He bit and kissed his way down to Keith's shoulder, marveling at every gasp he earned from the man beneath him as Keith clung to him.

Keith shoved him back when he reached the neck of his shirt, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it to the side before dragging him back down again. "Don't stop… Mark me."

He didn't have to ask twice. Shiro continued nipping and kissing his way down Keith's chest, drawing up dark love bites against his skin. Keith's hands slipped into Shiro's hair easily, tugging and encouraging him as he arched his chest into the contact with small moans and praises.

"I have… c-condoms…" Keith suggested, his implication clear as he moved to gesture to a drawer.

"O-oh… you mean…" Shiro swallowed. "Lube there too…?"

Keith pushed Shiro back enough to look at him, smirking slightly. "Sure is."

Shiro moved to open the drawer and find the lube and a condom packet as Keith turned onto his stomach, the smaller man's ass pushing up into the air slightly with the motion.

"Don't just sit there," Keith purred, wiggling his hips.

Shiro jolted, not having entirely realized he'd stopped moving. Carefully, he shifted to tug Keith's boxers down to his knees, exposing his ass to the room. Keith shivered in response, the cool chill of the air drawing up goosebumps across the backs of his thighs and the cheeks of his ass.

Shiro groaned, reaching out to run a hand over Keith's ass appreciatively. "You're… so hot…"

Keith preened, pushing his ass into Shiro's touch lightly. "Yeah…? Maybe you should grab a little harder, just to be sure."

Shiro complied, giving a squeeze as Keith groaned in response, tipping his hips to better offer himself up.

"You gonna use that lube or are you just going to stare at my ass all night?" Keith teased, looking back over his shoulder.

Keith didn't have to ask twice.

Fumbling to open the bottle, Shiro slicked his fingers quickly before teasing against Keith's rim gently.

"It's okay… I can take it," Keith noted, an obvious attempt to reassure Shiro.

"Do I seem that nervous?" Shiro huffed, teasing against Keith's rim again before pushing in with one careful finger.

"Li— _nngh_ —little bit…" Keith answered with a huff of a laugh, words punctuated by a groan and an arch of his back. "You can use two. It's not my first time."

"I'm… just… just admiring," Shiro countered, feeling Keith out, feeling the pliant way his ass started to give way to the ministrations of his finger.

Hot and slick and clenching down on his finger, Keith's ass was something Shiro very much wanted to take his time getting to know. And that was exactly what he did until a frustrated sound from Keith had him adding a second only to be rewarded with a groan.

"Oh _fuck,_ yeah, that's… that's better…" Keith breathed out, rocking his hips into the sensation. "Faster, baby… Work me open for you."

Shiro tried to comply, picking up the pace of his fingers before slowing down as he added a third. "I-is this okay…?"

" _Christ…_ " Keith moaned out, back arching.

Shiro nearly pulled back but Keith's hand was on his wrist in a flash, holding him there.

"N-no, don't stop. It's… it's good. Fuck yes…" Keith breathed. "I— I like it… You don't have to worry about me… You can be rougher…"

Hesitating, Shiro picked up his pace slightly, working his fingers in and out of Keith's ass, feeling his body relax around the stretch as Keith's moans became more drawn out and languid, his breaths punctuated by small groans.

"That's… c-c'mon… fuck me. It's… that's enough…" Keith nodded to himself, looking back over his shoulder. "Fuck me, Shiro."

Shiro pulled back then, tugging his borrowed pants down to free his cock from where it had tented out the fabric.

"Oh… _big_ boy…" Keith purred, still watching him over his shoulder.

"I… is it…?"

"It's huge," came the almost admiring reply.

Shiro moved to grab for the condom before hesitating as he rolled it on, the latex tight around his dick.

"You're… And you're sure this is okay…?" Shiro asked, cautious. "You've… you've had enough prep…?"

"Either you're fucking me in the next two minutes or I'm pinning you to this bed and riding you, Shiro," Keith quipped back, his impatience clear.

"I— okay…" Shiro nodded, swallowing down his nerves as best as he could. "Then… can… can you at least roll over? I… I want to see your face. If… if that's okay?"

Keith blinked at him for a moment, not answering and Shiro wondered if he'd done something wrong.

"I— if it's not okay, that's—"

"It's fine," Keith shook his head, slowly turning over. "Just… wasn't expecting it."

Shiro paused to look Keith over, the way his legs were splayed open, the flush of pink on his chest accented by dark love bites, the way his cock curved up and to the left ever so slightly as it twitched faintly with his pulse, leaking a lazy bead of precum.

"You just gonna stare? Two minutes, remember?" Keith warned with a laugh, moving to stroke himself with a few slow movements.

" _Fuck,_ you're gorgeous…" Shiro breathed, not bothering to hold his thoughts back as he moved forward to reposition them.

After adding a bit more lube to the condom, Shiro adjusted them again, nudging his hips forward to press the head of his cock against Keith's rim. Carefully, cautiously, he pushed forward, searching Keith's face for any sign of discomfort. Instead, Keith only stared back at him, lips parted slightly and lashes fluttering as a moan slipped past his lips.

"Oh, _fuck…_ S'thick…" Keith groaned, gripping at Shiro's shoulders.

"If it's too much I can—"

"Don't you fucking stop, Shirogane…" Keith warned, nails digging into his shoulders as he met Shiro's gaze again. "Just fuck me…"

Shiro didn't have it in him to argue, settling into a steady but careful pace.

" _Harder…_ _Fuck_ me… **_Wreck_** me," Keith groaned after a minute or so, hooking his leg around Shiro's waist. "Lemme see what you can _really_ do."

Shiro shuddered, eyes closing for a moment before he picked up his pace slightly, trying to not be _too_ rough still. Keith… didn't want Shiro to _hurt_ him… He was sure of that.

Keith huffed in frustration, the sound coming out as something of a growl that had Shiro stopping mid-thrust. "I'm not a goddamn Precious Moments china doll, okay? You can stop touching me like I'm gonna break."

Keith's hand intertwined with one of his before Shiro found his hand being guided up to Keith's neck.

Shiro froze, hesitating. _What?_ "I… But I could break you so easily…"

But Keith didn't look afraid. No, instead there was a glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips as he squeezed Shiro's hand tighter around his neck and _whimpered_ briefly. He licked his lips. "Yeah… _but you won't._ " There was a thrill in his voice, a sureness that Shiro didn't understand.

How could he say that? How could he be so _confident_ in that? Shiro found his thumb gently skirting over Keith's windpipe. He _had_ subdued people like this before, hell he broke a man's neck once by accident.

Cautiously, Shiro pressed down on the sides of Keith's throat ever so slightly. In return, he earned one of the most genuinely _pleased_ sounds Shiro thought he'd ever heard that had his dick twitching hard inside of Keith. Keith arched up against him, ass clenching around Shiro's cock as he pawed at Shiro's hand encouragingly.

"That's it, baby… Now _fuck me…_ " Keith praised, almost reverent.

Oh what the _fuck…_

Shiro couldn't even think to disagree. It was like something in him snapped, some little barrier, and he couldn't hold back. He could feel Kuro encouraging him, egging him on, telling him just how to fuck Keith to give him what he _really_ wanted as Shiro picked up his pace.

Keeping his grip firm on Keith's throat, Shiro alternated between a tighter hold and letting Keith catch his breath in sharp little gasps and keens, one hand gripping Shiro's arm and the other gripping at the pillow above his head. He knew how to do this. He knew how to choke Keith out right to the edge of incoherence but still keep him _there_ and present, not letting him tip too far into blacking out. Keith babbled encouragements with what little breath he could gather when he could gather it, broken praises and needy moans, clutching and clinging onto Shiro.

Shiro was used to seeing _fear_ in someone's eyes whenever Kuro was involved. That was what Kuro _did,_ he hurt people, he brought them pain and fear. But Keith? Keith's gaze only held _fire_ and _adrenaline_ , _lust_ and _need_ , and an overall thirst for _more_. And it was truly intoxicating.

Hips snapping forward again and again in solid thrusts, Shiro easily worked himself to the edge of his climax, dropping his other hand down to start stroking Keith, working him closer to his peak. Desperately, Shiro tried to hold off his climax, working Keith over with solid strokes before he had the smaller man tipping over the edge.

A choked, breathless cry escaped Keith's lips as he shook with the force of his orgasm, hands clenching into fists and eyes rolling back with pleasure as his cock painted a splattering of cum across his stomach, ass clenching around Shiro's dick. It was the last push against Shiro's resolve that he needed to lose the ability to hold back. He came hard with a broken moan, hips rocking forward on a sudden thrust to bury himself deep inside of Keith, riding out the waves of his climax.

Spent and barely clinging onto consciousness, Shiro tipped himself to the side after pulling out, collapsing to the bed next to Keith. "I— w-was that okay…?" he asked cautiously, tugging the condom off and tying it.

"That… was better than just okay," Keith gasped back, still breathless and rubbing over his throat with a hand before running his hand over the love bites and the mess of cum on his stomach.

"I— I didn't hurt you, did I?" Shiro propped himself up slightly to look at Keith, biting his lip.

Keith only laughed, patting Shiro's cheek. "You did exactly what I asked you to."

That was… not really an answer. Shiro frowned but his thoughts were distracted by Keith's lips against his and Keith's arms pulling him close.

"You didn't hurt me. But if you had… It would only have been because I _asked_ you to. You look exhausted, think you can sleep?"

Shiro hesitated, eventually nodding. "I… I think I can try. Is it… alright if I spend the night?"

Keith's answer came in the form of leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep… Just sleep…"

Shiro didn't think he'd ever fallen asleep quite so quickly or so soundly. Not in a long time, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art featured in this chapter by pichikalu! [Like/Reblog Here!](http://pichikalu.tumblr.com/post/167391195017/heres-my-main-art-for-the-fic-hybristophilia-by)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro found himself following along to Keith's apartment or dragging Keith over to his place after work more often than not in the weeks following their first time together. Keith seemed to belong in his bed, in his space. Shiro wasn't sure if it had ever really been 'just sex' with Keith considering their first night together had consisted of Keith getting him cleaned up and calmed down before they fell into bed together, but it certainly wasn't 'just sex' anymore. He liked Keith, he felt comfortable with Keith, and—though he wasn't sure exactly why—he felt safe with Keith. The crime scene tech was the only one who Shiro felt he could let his guard down with. Keith knew about Shiro and he knew about Kuro and he accepted both openly and without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, had some beta troubles!

Shiro woke the next morning to an empty spot of bed beside him. He started to worry before he spotted the note on Keith's pillow explaining that he'd been called in early to deal with the new Black Paladin case, that there was fresh coffee in the pot, he was welcome to use the shower again, and to lock the door behind him. It was oddly… domestic. And he wanted to feel that feeling again.

Shiro found himself following along to Keith's apartment or dragging Keith over to his place after work more often than not in the weeks following their first time together. Keith seemed to _belong_ in his bed, in his space. Shiro wasn't sure if it had ever really been ' _just sex_ ' with Keith considering their first night together had consisted of Keith getting him cleaned up and calmed down before they fell into bed together, but it certainly wasn't ' _just sex_ ' anymore. He _liked_ Keith, he felt _comfortable_ with Keith, and—though he wasn't sure exactly _why_ —he felt _safe_ with Keith. The crime scene tech was the only one who Shiro felt he could let his guard down with. Keith knew about Shiro and he knew about Kuro and he accepted both openly and without hesitation.

Sometimes he would ask if Shiro had 'picked up a new job', just as casually as that, his subtle reference to Kuro's work. Shiro would answer just as casually that there'd been some interesting news articles lately. Other times they would just curl up on the couch with a collection of takeout containers covering the coffee table and watch movies until they fell asleep. Shiro didn't miss how Keith always got the most excited over the Korean revenge thrillers. Sure, he himself usually preferred comedy or action films but seeing Keith so alert and intent was a treat in itself, watching his eyes dart across the screen.

When Shiro had called him at two in the morning, standing in the middle of his apartment and midway through freaking out again at another of Kuro's job gone slightly awry where he'd been left to try to figure things out, Keith had shown up in what felt like a matter of moments. Realistically, it was probably more like twenty minutes. But regardless, it _felt_ like a blink between when Keith had hung up saying he would be right over and when Keith was pressing a hand to Shiro's cheek, taking his free hand and guiding him to the kitchen, making them both coffee and offering Shiro a cup before hopping up onto the counter.

Keith hadn't asked what had gone wrong, he hadn't made Shiro relive the terror of not having Kuro there to handle things for him, he hadn't made him contemplate what had fucked up and gone wrong, how _he'd_ gone wrong. His questions had been simple and to the point. "Okay, but did you get the job done?" Yes, yes he had gotten the job done. "Did you leave any evidence that they might trace back to you?" ...No, no, he hadn't. He'd fucked up but the evidence, what little there might be, was nothing that could ever lead back to Takashi Shirogane. "Okay, so you strayed from routine a little, but you still accomplished your goal," Keith had concluded. Shiro had balked at how _calm_ Keith was about all of this. Here he was, recounting his murderous misadventures and Keith was just… sitting cross-legged on his counter, cup clutched in his lap, blinking slowly at Shiro and looking as if he'd never had a weight on his shoulders in his life but yet also as if he could see right into the very core of Shiro's soul.

And then somehow they'd fallen into bed together yet again.

Keith was… certainly something else. Shiro wasn't exactly sure _what_ that something was, but it melded seamlessly with his something. And that was enough for him.

"Are you… seriously watching me make coffee?" Keith asked, jolting Shiro from his silent admiration as he sat at the kitchen table.

"Why wouldn't I? It's… nice seeing you in my space like this…" Shiro answered honestly, feeling a bit of heat climb to his cheeks as he thought about their lazy Saturday so far, Keith having not bothered to leave after they'd spent the night together.

Keith looked at him for a long moment, a small frown marring his face. Shiro wondered if what he'd said was really _that_ weird of a thing to say. Was he sounding creepy? Maybe that was a creepy thing to say.

But then Keith scoffed, shaking his head with a small, fond smile that made Shiro's heart flutter in his chest. "You're being weird and sappy again."

"Mhm… and…?" Shiro asked, feeling more confident.

"And… Just d-do some dishes or something," Keith mumbled out, looking away. "Make yourself useful."

"Yes, Sir," Shiro joked as Keith rolled his eyes, standing and moving to work on the dishes piled in the sink left over from lunch. While Keith's apartment was nice enough to have a dishwasher, Shiro's place had no such luxury.

Finishing up the dishes, Shiro turned to see Keith standing at the end of the counter, flipping through the newspaper idly as he sipped his coffee.

Without a second thought, Shiro moved to wrap his arms around Keith's waist, burying his face in Keith's neck. He stilled then, content to just stay there for a while, breathing in Keith's scent. The smaller man had taken a shower before lunch and his hair still held the scent of Shiro's shampoo but there was also that underlying tone of _Keith_ , crisp and sharp and something Shiro couldn't see himself ever getting sick of.

"Can I… help you with something…?" Keith asked after Shiro had been buried in his neck nuzzling for a few minutes.

"Nope, m'good," Shiro mumbled back, fidgeting to fit against Keith more closely.

He could feel Keith's resigned sigh against him before there was a hand in his hair, scratching at his head for a moment before Keith went back to his news articles. "Okay, puppy…"

They stayed there at the counter for another few minutes until Keith finished flipping through the paper, closing it and clearing his throat. "Did… you wanna watch something, maybe?" he asked. "I think it's your turn to pick the movie."

"Sure," Shiro hummed, kissing Keith's neck before pulling back.

Within a few minutes they were settled onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn settled on Shiro's leg. This was nice. This was… comfortable. Watching movies with his— Shiro frowned, distracted from the opening scene. "Hey, Keith…?"

"Mm…?" Keith asked, snatching a piece of popcorn and not really paying much attention to Shiro.

"Are… is this… are we… dating? Or… just… friends…? Is this… what is this?" Shiro asked, hoping he didn't sound as helpless as he felt.

Keith stopped mid-motion, another piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth. "...Uh…"

_Uh?_

"I… should I not have asked?" Shiro asked. "I just… I was thinking about it and—"

"What do you want this to be, Shiro…?" Keith asked, cutting him off.

It was Shiro's turn to stop. "I… excuse me?"

"I said… what do you _want_ this to be…?" Keith repeated, turning to blink at him slowly, tipping his head to the side. "Do you _want_ to be dating me…?" Keith asked.

Shiro blinked. He hadn't been expecting the question to be tossed back at him so casually. "I—" He paused, considering his answer. "Yes, I… I think I do."

Keith reached out, carefully grabbing the popcorn bowl and setting it on the table before turning and swinging one leg over Shiro's lap to sit straddling his thighs. Keith's hands caged either side of Shiro's head. "You _think_ you do…? Or… you _do?_ " he asked, head tipping to the side.

Keith always seemed like he could stare straight into Shiro's soul when he did that. Shiro knew the idea was absurd but he just couldn't shake it. It was something about the look in his eyes and the way they glinted in the light. It was something almost… unnatural. It was a silly thought.

"I want to go out with you," Shiro concluded more firmly, staring Keith straight back in the eyes. "I want to date you."

"Mm…" Keith let out a hum that almost sounded like a purr, leaning in to kiss Shiro slowly. "Good boy…" he purred, hands running down Shiro's arms slowly to his wrists.

Shiro didn't protest the touch, too caught up in the flush of heat the praise offered him.

"You're always so _good…_ at everything you do…" Keith continued, hands wrapping around Shiro's wrists. "Good boys deserve a reward, don't you think?"

Before Shiro could answer, Keith had grabbed his wrists, shoving them to the couch on either side of Shiro's head.

"Keith, wh-what—"

"Shh…" Keith urged. "Let me take care of you… I bet it's been a long time since anyone's done that, huh… Taken care of you…? The way you _crave…?_ "

Shiro couldn't help the way he shuddered at the tone, pushing back reflexively against Keith's grip.

"Fuck. You're stronger than you look…" Shiro noted, surprised as Keith shoved him back against the couch.

Kuro clawed at the back of his mind, thrashing against the idea of being restrained but also… _fascinated_ by the idea.

"I am. And you're in a _very_ vulnerable position… _Detective…_ " Keith purred, leaning to nip at Shiro's neck. "So let me take care of you… Give you what you _need…_ "

Shiro shuddered, hesitating before relaxing into Keith's grip. "What do you have in mind…?" he asked, almost not daring to know the answer.

Keith reached into the fold of the couch cushions, pulling out a pair of cuffs. Shiro realized the implication almost immediately as Keith brought them to his wrists.

"Y-you planned this…" Shiro stammered.

This was… insane. He couldn't just let someone restrain him. He couldn't let someone who knew about _Kuro_ restrain him, leave him vulnerable. He couldn't just—

Keith knew about Kuro and supported him in his efforts, he danced around the duality that was Takashi Shirogane effortlessly. And… he was _dating_ him.

Shiro stayed still as Keith bound his wrists together, feeling his breaths quicken in his chest at the _vulnerability_ of the situation.

"Not too tight?" Keith asked.

Shiro shook his head.

"Good. Now be a good boy and stay still…" Keith urged, slipping off Shiro's lap to tug his boxers off, moving to tug Shiro's off a moment later, leaving him undressed from the waist down.

Reaching down the side of the couch again, Keith pulled out a bottle of lube. He knelt at Shiro's side before tipping forward over him, giving Shiro a solid view of his ass as he started to finger himself open. To say Keith was lewd was an understatement. Shiro was sure he'd watched porn that was less _intense_ than this. And weren't porn stars supposed to be known for going over the top? The only difference was with Keith it was always _genuine._ He knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how to make it happen. And what he wanted was obviously to put on a show for Shiro. And oh he was _definitely_ doing that…

Shiro felt his own dick twitch at the sight, desperately wanting to reach out, to touch. But the moment he tried to move his hands, Keith's eyes snapped open to stare into his soul again. "Uh-uh, baby… Good boys stay still…" he purred.

Shiro sank back against the couch obediently with a strangled sound. How could Keith hold this much _power_ over him?

"Good boy," Keith concluded after a moment, adding a third finger to the first two he'd been using on himself. He shifted slightly, jolting as he obviously nudged against his prostate with a wanton moan.

Shiro watched as Keith closed his eyes, repeating the motion a few times with soft, needy sounds before stopping. Keith pulled back, then, shifting himself into Shiro's lap to straddle him. He grabbed a condom out of his stash of things, ripping it open before rolling it down Shiro's cock easily, squeezing once at the base and making Shiro buck into his grip.

Keith only smirked, licking his lips before adding more lube to Shiro's dick and shifting positions to settle over him. He rolled his hips just enough for Shiro's cock to brush against his rim, tutting when Shiro's hips bucked.

"Uh-uh… good boys stay still, remember…?" Keith teased.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me…" Shiro groaned. But he couldn't find it in himself to move, too curious what Keith had in store for him.

Keith's hand moved back to Shiro's bound wrists, holding his arms down and removing the temptation to reach out and touch Keith as he started to sink down onto Shiro with small, bouncing motions, working himself down farther and farther.

" _F-fuck… Keith…_ " Shiro groaned, closing his eyes. Keith was always a good fuck but this… There was something about the way Keith was looking down at him, almost like he _owned_ him. And it was… exhilarating.

Shiro struggled to keep his hips still against the temptation to fuck up into the tight heat of the other man's body as Keith rode him slowly and powerfully. Shiro could feel the strength in his thighs as he lifted and lowered himself over and over on his dick, keeping Shiro's wrists pinned down.

Keith tossed his head back, hips rolling as he kept moving, fucking himself on Shiro's cock. His free hand dropped down to stroke himself and it was obvious: This time, Keith was using Shiro to get himself off, he was using Shiro as a fucktoy and the larger man's pleasure came secondary.

Shiro moaned out at the realization, head dropping back as his toes curled against the carpet.

A low chuckle from Keith came a moment before a set of teeth were on Shiro's neck, nipping and drawing up a dark love bite. "You realized it, hmm? This time you're mine to play with. Don't worry… I'll make sure you feel _really_ good… I told you I'd take care of you…" Keith purred, biting another mark into Shiro's skin.

Without warning, Keith picked up his pace, shifting on top of him in a way that made him seem _tighter_ . " _Fuck…_ Fuck you're still so fucking _thick…_ God… _Shiro…_ " Keith moaned out, gripping at Shiro's wrists with a squeeze as he arched his spine, tossing his head back. "Oh _fuck,_ baby… Fill me up just… just right…"

"K-keith…" Shiro groaned, fists clenching and relaxing. "I'm… I won't last… not if you… Not like this…"

"S'okay… S'okay, cum for me, baby… Wanna… Wanna make you feel good…" Keith purred, picking up the pace of his strokes against himself, obviously working himself towards his own climax.

Shiro held out for barely a minute longer before he came hard, hips twitching up despite himself as he came, head dropping back with a broken moan. "O-oh god, _Keith…_ "

"That's it… that's it, baby… That's it…" Keith nodded, giving two more quick pulls to his cock before he came, hips twitching and body clenching _impossibly_ tighter as he painted across Shiro's shirt with stripes of white cum.

Keith relaxed against Shiro then, leaning the side of his head against Shiro's with heavy breaths for a moment before reaching up and undoing the cuffs quickly. Pulling back, he took his time rubbing at each of Shiro's reddened wrists before pulling off of him, tugging the condom off and tying it before dropping it onto an empty candy wrapper on the coffee table and settling back onto the couch. The lube, cuffs, and empty condom wrapper joined it quickly.

"So… should we restart the movie…?" Keith teased, curling up at Shiro's side as he snatched the popcorn bowl back.

"What _are_ you…" Shiro laughed, shaking his head.

"Your boyfriend, apparently," Keith countered with a smirk.

Keith was… an enigma, that much was sure.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith looked up from the object he was twiddling in his hands. "Picked your lock. This place has shit security and even older doors than mine. It's kind of a shithole for your salary."
> 
> "It's… convenient, no one notices when you come or go," Shiro answered, looking at Keith's hands.
> 
> Wait, was that a scalpel?
> 
> "Why… Why is that in your hand, baby…?" Shiro asked cautiously.
> 
> Keith blinked at him, setting the scalpel down on the table in front of him. It almost looked like an offering. "I wanna feel it."

Shiro groaned as he shrugged off his coat, the muscles in his back feeling tense after a long day. The case they'd caught had been… rough, interviewing the family of the missing teen had taken most of Shiro's energy and will to do anything other than just lie on the ground and lament how  _ horrible _ people could be. They even had the guy on video, covering the girl's mouth, knocking her out, and putting her into the back of his car. And yet they managed to have exactly no leads on finding him. Not yet. But they would. They would find something, Shiro was sure of it. 

Wandering through his apartment, Shiro stopped as his eyes registered a glint by his table. There was… There was someone sitting at his table and—

"Keith, what the  _ hell, _ you scared me…" Shiro sighed, flipping on the overhead light. "I don't mind the company and I was about to call you anyway but… How the  _ fuck  _ did you get into my apartment?" 

Really, at this point, nothing surprised him about Keith. But having him just  _ show up _ was… weird. 

Keith looked up from the object he was twiddling in his hands. "Picked your lock. This place has shit security and even older doors than mine. It's kind of a shithole for your salary." 

"It's… convenient, no one notices when you come or go," Shiro answered, looking at Keith's hands. 

Wait, was that a  _ scalpel? _

"Why… Why is that in your hand, baby…?" Shiro asked cautiously, keeping a reasonable distance between them. Keith was weird, Shiro knew that and usually loved it, but breaking into Shiro's apartment with a blade was a new level of weird, one that Shiro wasn't going to navigate without caution or reservation. 

Keith blinked at him, setting the scalpel down on the table in front of him. It almost looked like an offering. "I wanna feel it." 

Shiro froze. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?" 

What the fuck did that even mean? What did he want to feel, exactly? Was he asking to cut somebody up?

Hesitating, Keith bit his lip. "You always make them look so good, so  _ precise… _ Your cuts. They're… they're beautiful… And I… I wanna feel it. I wanna feel your precision." 

_ Oh.  _ Keith wanted Shiro to cut  _ him _ up.  _ Fuck, wait,  _ **_what?_ **

Shiro could only watch as Keith stood and crossed the room, reaching up to cup at Shiro's jaw. 

"Please?" The question was soft, quiet, and almost gentle considering Keith was standing there asking Shiro to  _ slice him up _ . 

Keith thumbed across Shiro's lower lip and Shiro couldn't help but chase the motion with his tongue out of reflex. It was  _ wet. _ Wet and distinctly…  _ metallic. _ Shiro's breath hitched at the taste as he moved to look at Keith's thumb, looking at the prick on his thumb beading up with bright red blood. He was serious about this. 

"You… you want me to… to cut you…?" Shiro asked, feeling his heart pounding in his throat, chest tight. 

Kuro clawed at his mind, desperate to come to the forefront and take full advantage of this willing victim. 

No. He couldn't… He couldn't  _ hurt _ Keith. "I— I don't want to hurt you…" 

Keith hummed, stepping closer and moving to cup at Shiro's cock through his pants. "There's a big difference between hurting and harming, baby… You're not going to  _ harm _ me just because I'm asking you to  _ hurt _ me…" he purred. 

"I— you can't know that… I could—  _ Kuro _ could—" 

"Shh…" Keith urged, kneading at Shiro through his pants. 

Fuck he was making it hard to focus but Shiro couldn't get distracted, couldn't get carried away couldn't— 

"I want you to mark me up, baby… Let me feel your blade on my skin… The way you know  _ just _ how to handle every inch…" Keith purred. 

"Keith, that's not— I'm not—" 

"You had a hard day, didn't you…? I heard about your case… Let me help you unwind… I  _ know  _ you'll feel better if you get to let out some of your…  _ frustrations… _ " Keith urged, pressing another disposable scalpel into Shiro's hand, this one still packaged for sterility. "I put some clean towels down on your bed… And I have dressings nearby…" 

Shiro felt his breath catch. "You've… really thought about this, haven't you?" he asked, cautious. 

Keith only smirked, taking Shiro's free hand and stepping backwards as easily as he would forwards, guiding Shiro into the bedroom, stopping a few feet away from the bed. Shiro shuddered as Keith ran his hands down his sides before moving back up again, under his shirt, pushing up the fabric before pushing it up over his head. Every kiss against his skin drew out soft sounds past Shiro's lips before Keith stepped back, tugging off his own shirt as well. But Keith didn't stop there for himself, instead undoing his pants and tugging them down with a small wiggle of his hips, stepping out of them to stand in only his underwear for a brief moment. 

And then Keith was back against Shiro again, touching him, teasing him, working him up and making Shiro's breaths draw shorter. Keith didn't hesitate in tugging Shiro's hand, urging him backwards toward the bed. Keith presented himself easily in the middle of it, tugging Shiro on top of him until he wound up straddling Keith's thighs. 

Shiro marveled at how smooth Keith's skin was as he ran his hands over his bare chest and stomach, running down to his hips. "Baby, you're sure about this…?"

"Shiro, stop stalling," Keith breathed, looking to the side. "C'mon… I know what I want." He shifted his hips, drawing attention to the prominent erection barely contained by his underwear. 

Shiro was sure it would start to flag as soon as he made the first cut. 

"I— if it's too much…" Shiro started, trailing off. What would they do then? If Kuro took over entirely and really  _ harmed _ Keith… But no… No Keith was innocent and as fucked up as Kuro was, he wouldn't kill an innocent… 

"I'll tap out and you'll try to stop?" Keith offered, snapping Shiro out of his head, brushing a hand against Shiro's cheek. "But I know… it depends how much of you is…  _ you, _ whether you can right away or not. I'm okay with that." 

Shiro blinked down at him for a moment, feeling how  _ small _ Keith felt between his thighs, legs caged and pinned down as Shiro knelt over his legs. He understood. Keith understood what he was tempting,  _ who _ he was tempting. And he was willing to take that risk. He  _ wanted _ to take that risk. He wanted Shiro  _ and _ he wanted Kuro… 

And he looked so good, so inviting, running his hands over his chest, inviting Shiro, inviting Kuro, inviting  _ both _ of them to mark him up. 

Kuro clawed at his thoughts, practically salivating at the idea of this, forcing his way to the front of Shiro's consciousness. 

Taking a breath, Shiro tore open the package on the scalpel. "Fine then. You know what you're getting yourself into, Kogane…" 

It was a strange blend of himself and Kuro as he took the cap off the scalpel, watching it glint in the light for a moment before pressing the flat of it against Keith's chest, drawing out a gasp. "This is what you want…?" 

Keith's eyelids fluttered slightly as he looks up at him, grey twinkling almost purple. "You know I do…" 

"How deep can I go…?" Shiro asked. 

Kuro almost didn't want to  _ care _ about that answer but… if they wanted Keith to let this happen  _ again…  _ They had to respect his boundaries. Kuro knew that as well as Shiro did. And Kuro kept quiet. 

"Nothing that needs stitches but… Anything else goes," Keith answered confidently. 

"Anything…?" Shiro asked, trailing the cold blade against Keith's skin and watching as Keith's breath hitched. 

"Like I said…  _ anything, _ baby…" Keith purred, moving his hands up to rest on either side of his head, a tempting picture if ever there was one. 

Shiro trailed the blade against Keith's skin, the flat metal drawing up goosebumps in its wake. 

"Are you just going to tease me all day?" Keith asked, breaths short and shallow. 

Without warning, Shiro twisted the blade, dragging a slow, soft curve against Keith's chest, light at first before adding only the smallest amount of extra pressure to scratch at the skin, drawing up a beading line of blood in his wake. 

And Keith  _ moaned. _ His eyes fell shut as his hands clenched into fists, arms tensing. 

Shiro froze, drawing the blade away from his skin as Keith arched into the contact. His heart stuttered and stumbled over itself in his chest. "I— you… you like this?" 

"Shiro… again…" Keith pleaded breathily, looking up at him with an expression that almost seemed high with pleasure. 

"A-again…?" Shiro asked. 

Swallowing hard, Shiro twisted the blade in his grip, carving a line down Keith's pectoral muscle, following the curve as he cut a bit deeper than before, watching the dark blood beading up in the wake of sharp silver. 

Keith kept perfectly still save for the small, almost imperceptible tremors of his muscles until the blade was away from his skin again. When it was, his breath rushed out of him on another moan that went right to Shiro's dick. 

"Oh  _ god… _ Shiro…" Keith groaned, clenching and relaxing his hands, stretching his neck and arching his chest out for a moment. "Fuck that's good, baby…" 

Shiro licked his lips, swallowing hard and staring at the blood on the blade before looking at the blood on Keith's body, beading up before trickling down his side and onto the towel. He couldn't explain it, the  _ craving _ to lean down and lick up the blood trickling in a small rivulet across Keith's skin. It seemed like Kuro's urge but it  _ felt _ like his own. 

"Like what you see…?" Keith teased, tipping his head to the side before reaching to run a hand down beside the trail of blood, careful not to touch it. 

"I—" 

"It's okay, Shiro…" Keith cut him off. "Do what feels right… Follow your  _ instinct. _ " 

Shiro hesitated before leaning down, licking up the trail of blood. Almost immediately, he groaned, long and low as he felt a shudder run through his whole body. It was warm,  _ hot _ really, and metallic. The taste lingered on his tongue as he pulled back, noting how his own breathing had gotten more shallow. 

" _ Fuck… _ " Shiro breathed. 

"Mm… maybe after…" Keith teased before reaching his hand up to Shiro's wrist, inches away from the blade. "For now… keep going…" 

Shiro hesitated before running the flat of the blade against the skin again, tracing this way and that. He trailed the tip of the blade against Keith's skin, too light to break the surface. 

...And then he twisted his wrist, slicing into Keith's skin again with a small curve. 

Keith keened, arching up as soon as the blade was away from his skin before collapsing back to the bed, breathless. "Oh…  _ fuck, _ baby… Just like that…" 

Keith was enjoying this. Keith was  _ still hard, _ Shiro noticed, accidentally brushing against his clothed erection and drawing a moan out of the smaller man. 

"O-oh fuck…" Shiro breathed. 

This was… this was a  _ good _ thing to Keith. Shiro was cutting him open, making him  _ bleed _ but… but Keith liked it, he  _ wanted _ it… 

Shiro ducked his head down, licking up another trail of blood, careful to avoid the wound itself. He moaned at the taste in his mouth, swallowing and looking at Keith, breathless. "This…" Shiro didn't have the words. 

Keith only grinned that wicked grin, trailing a lone finger down Shiro's cheek. "I know, gorgeous… Don't stop." 

They fell into a rhythm after that. Shiro would tease and taunt Keith with his blade, drawing it out, making Keith gasp and twitch in anticipation, watching the way his breaths hitched and stilled here and there. And then, when Keith's anticipation had reached its peak and he was right at the edge of starting to squirm, Shiro would twist the blade and slice, shallow and with a steady hand, carving lines and curves into Keith's skin. 

Shiro wondered which of his marks would fade when the wounds healed and which of his marks would scar. He'd never really gotten to see how his cuts  _ healed… _ His victims never survived that long. But Keith… Keith might bear his mark, Kuro's mark,  _ their _ mark, for a long time. 

The thought was both terrifying and thrilling but Shiro couldn't deny how hot it was or how tight his pants felt. 

Another cut had Keith panting and squirming in its wake. "Shir… Shiro… I can't… I need… I need to cum…  _ Fuck, _ I'm so fucking…  _ Shiro… _ Wanna cum…" Keith all but whined. 

Shiro froze, eyes wide and staring at Keith, taking in the large, dark patch of precum where the head of his cock pressed hard against the fabric. "Don't we have to… I mean… we should get you patched up first, shouldn't—" 

" _ Now… _ " Keith groaned, hips arching up before he shoved his hands down, pushing his underwear down to let his cock free. "Either you get me off or I'll get myself off." 

"I— cum in your cuts would probably hurt, wouldn't—" 

Shiro felt Keith's hand tangle in his hair, tugging and guiding him downwards as Shiro fumbled to cap the scalpel. 

"Guess you'd better make sure I don't get any in the cuts then," Keith smirked. 

_ Oh…  _ Shiro let his lips part as the head of Keith's cock nudged against them, smearing precum against his lips. He darted his tongue out, earning a soft sigh from Keith whose grip tightened in his hair. 

"That's it…" Keith urged. 

Shiro groaned at the mix of blood and cum on his tongue, focusing himself into working Keith over, suckling at the head before dropping down to swallow around him as low as he could and then going back to focusing on the crown. 

It was obvious just how worked up Keith had been because it wasn't long before he was gripping tighter to Shiro's hair, squirming and whining. 

"Sh-shiro… gonna cum… gonna… gonna…  _ nnaah! _ " Keith cried out, hips bucking as he came down Shiro's throat. 

Shiro tried to swallow as best as he could, choking slightly and coughing, covering his mouth to keep the strands of cum and saliva dripping from his mouth from hitting Keith. 

"Shiro…? Are… are you okay…?" Keith asked, running a hand through Shiro's hair. 

"Yeah… s-sorry… Just… not used to doing that…" Shiro laughed, breathless and shocked by how wrecked his voice sounded. Oh… he  _ really _ wasn't used to that. When was the last time he'd blown anyone anyway? It had been… a very long time. 

Keith purred before hissing as he shifted, pulling open a cut that had started to scab up. 

"C'mon… let's get you cleaned up…" Shiro noted, pointing at the cuts. "You have neosporin or something before we bandage them?" 

"Rubbing alcohol and neosporin," Keith countered, pointing at the nightstand. "Figured it couldn't hurt to be extra careful…" 

"The alcohol is going to sting…" Shiro warned, reaching for the bottle and some of the gauze swabs. 

"No shit," Keith snorted before hissing as Shiro dabbed alcohol over one of the larger cuts. " _ Fuck, _ Shiro…" 

Shiro flinched sympathetically before impulsively kissing at Keith's hip a few times, shushing him. Every swipe of the alcohol was chased by a series of small kisses and strokes across areas of unbroken skin, Shiro shushing and soothing Keith with kind, soft words. Carefully, he cleaned every wound as Keith alternated between sharp hisses and gentle sighs while gripping onto the sheets. 

Spraying down the wounds, Shiro carefully bandaged each one, some with butterfly strips and some with gauze pads and tape, depending on how they would move and pull as Keith moved. "You uh… might not want to take your shirt off in front of other people for a while. They… might have questions…" 

Propping himself up on his elbows, Keith smirked. "And I can just tell them that my sex life is clearly  _ way _ more enjoyable than theirs."

Shiro choked, blushing. "I— that… that you could…" he agreed. "But I don't know if you'd w— _ ah! _ " Shiro yelped as Keith tugged him up abruptly, pulling him to the bed to kiss him solidly. 

"Thank you for this…" Keith hummed, stealing a smaller kiss. "Nap with me and I'll make us dinner?" he offered. 

Carefully setting the scalpel on the nightstand along with the spare gauze pads, Shiro settled down. "That… this was really okay…?" he asked, needing reassurance. 

"It was  _ better _ than okay…" Keith agreed, pressing small kisses to Shiro's chest. "It was  _ really _ hot… Now sleep, we can talk about it later." 

Shiro couldn't argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Will update regularly over the next few days! I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments as we go through this adventure!
> 
> Also find me on [Tumblr @InterdictedInk](http://interdictedink.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter @ InderdictedInk](http://twitter.com/interdictedink) for more updates, behind the scenes info, and advance snippets of my work!


End file.
